A Debt of Service
by Pleasantly Paranoid
Summary: When the Westerners raid and burn Lars' village, he is saved by a Western prince, Matthew. I don't really know where this is going yet... Medieval!AU. NedCan. R&R please.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly**

Okay so this is a sort of Medieval AU, slightly influenced my the Song of Ice and Fire book series, but that isn't really relative to anything.

Please enjoy, reviews are appreciated.

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"I yield," the man breathed, stumbling to his knees. His eyes were wide as they soaked up the carnage around him. The Westerners had come too quickly. His village had been ill prepared. There was no warning, no defense, no time to run. They had swept into the small town, raping and plundering as they went, slaying both armed defenders and children alike.

The man was Lars van der Berg, a simple farmer. He had a sister and a brother, who were most likely dead. 'And I'll most likely be joining them' he thought wistfully. He had no weapon and no hope.

The knight stand over him laughed harshly as he raised his weapon, "Yield? There is nothing but the sword for you, pig."

And that was it, he supposed. His family was dead, he had nothing left, and he was too proud to beg. Lars van der Berg would not beg for his life. Especially not to likes of this Western monster. So he closed his eyes and prayed to the gods to deliver a quick death. It was oddly peaceful, accepting death, he thought. Even amongst the havoc of his burning village. In the distance he vaguely heard men shouting. "Goodbye, pig," the soldier snarled.

"Halt!" a stern voice commanded. Lars opened his eyes, allowing himself to glance towards the voice, to hope... The soldier also turned to face the man who had called out. He was taking long strides towards them, clad in red tinted steel which shone in the sun. Under his arm he carried his helm, on his hip hung an unbloodied longsword. "Halt, soldier!" This time, Lars heard the anger in the man's voice.

"I was just putting down a pig, m'lord," the soldier answered shakily, before adding "If it pleases you..."

"It does not please me! Where is the honour in slaying an unarmed man, tell me?" Lars lowered his eyes as the man of authority bellowed at his soldier. "I don't believe 'slaughtering innocents' was in the job description. You dishonour me- you dishonour the king with your blatant disregard for life! Now get out of my face."

The man rushed off, red faced and sour. The man in the blood red armor turned to Lars, offering his hand. Lars took it, climbing to his feet. "Thank you, my lord" he managed.

The man nodded curtly, "you yielded, and you were unarmed. To kill you would not be just. Neither is the burning of this village. But alas, I only just arrived and I cannot undo fire with words. I am Prince Matthew. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Lars van der Berg, my lord." He answered.

"Well met, Lars."

Lars had never known a Westerner to speak so kindly, let alone a prince. Then again, he had not met many Westerners, and never a royal one. He lived in the mountains, in the northern areas of his country. The constent fighting between the Western and Eastern realms seldom reached the remote mountain regions. As of late, however, small armies have been crossing borders, claiming land for their side. It had only been a matter of time before they came to claim the mountains. This land meant nothing to the Eastern king, it was easy picking.

This young prince had saved Lars, it was a kindness that had never been shown to him. A gratefulness swelled inside of him. "Let me repay you for your mercy, my lord," he beseeched "I have nothing to give but my life, which you now hold. But I always pay my debts, I owe you."

"You owe me nothing, friend," Prince Matthew assured. He smiled thoughtfully, "however, my squire was slain recently in battle. I am in need of new assistance. Does the role interest you?"

Squire was a far leap from peasant farmer, an opportunity to move forward. But, "my lord, I can not read nor write."

"Then you shall learn. Now quick, if you wish to serve, gather whatever has not burned. We ride back west in an hour."


End file.
